


What a Lovely Way to Burn

by Meduseld



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Feelings, First Time, M/M, References to Dubious Consent, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meduseld/pseuds/Meduseld
Summary: In the middle of nowhere, Texas, Buck finally finds Eddie waiting for him.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 249





	What a Lovely Way to Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incorrectnikki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectnikki/gifts).



> This popped into my head a soon as I saw the promo and I wanted to post it before it gets jossed. Also Nikki, you're such sunshine, I hope you enjoy this.

There’s a word, Buck knows, for places like this.

When you’re in between, not here or there, not really, the same as the feeling you get driving late at night. Like everything is on pause and the hour is none and you’re elsewhere, somewhere.

It was on his SAT, years ago. The word.

It’s been nagging at him, on the tip of his tongue since they started the drive out to Texas.

He can’t ask.

It’s not like he expects Hen or Eddie to make fun of him, not _really_ , at least since he got serious about therapy.

It was easier, despite what most people complained, with a screen between him and her. No contact, no fear.

But it feels so stupid, with half the state on fire and everyone needing their help and Eddie clearly nervous, worrying at the skin of his knuckles with his teeth. Coming home, or close enough, must bring up mixed memories. Feelings.

It’s funny, before all this, Eddie and Buck talked about their emotions all the time, easy as breathing. Days after they met and already Eddie had told him about Chris and Shannon and his family and Buck made his own secret confessions and Abby and oblique references to his parents.

He’s trying. He’s _been_ trying. If anything, he feels a little guilty about not telling Eddie about the therapist.

He’s fine with Maddie and Chim and Albert assuming whatever they’re thinking, it’ll actually be a little funny when he tells them the details. But Eddie.

He doesn’t like keeping anything from Eddie.

He tells himself that it’s to keep it off his plate, it’s hard enough to see Chris through a screen and watching Eddie wince because they aren’t in the same room and it’s palpable that they all want to be.

Not that it would be a problem. It might even be a load off Eddie’s mind.

He knows himself well enough to know it’s not that. Not really. Not what’s keeping him quiet.

It’s that he can’t give Eddie what feels like a weapon, like a reason to cut Buck out even if he knows, with his big brain, that Eddie wouldn’t.

He’s gone out of his way to have Buck able talk to Chris, still sits as close as ever at the station and on the truck.

On the way down to Texas, he let Buck rest his eyes on his shoulder. Probably would have let Buck use his lap if he’d had a way to stretch that far.

It’s his little brain, in his heart, that doesn’t know that. The dumb part, the one that falls more in love, a little bit every day, with something new. With Eddie, just being there.

He knows it’s not as hidden as he’d like.

It’s clear in the way his doctor asks, “He seems to mean a lot to you”.

A lot is an understatement. Eddie’s Buck’s One.

Which is pathetic but. Buck doesn’t want a life, a love, without him. And this is good.

It is, and it has to be good enough. What they have now.

Even if the craziness the world has sunk in has him keening, eager to have a roommate again in the Hans if it means he doesn’t have to miss Chris and Eddie all day.

Even if he hates it too because if he’d been facing staying alone Eddie would have stepped up and invited him home.

He’s sure.

He’s almost sure.

“This isn’t how I wanted to show you Texas” Eddie had said while they ate MREs, dirty and exhausted by the trucks. Off hand, but serious.

It’s not like he’d say that to Hen. Hell, she’d never been to Texas either, but Eddie had only welcomed Buck.

So maybe it’s not a surprise that, under the smoky Texas sky, stars drowned out by the glow of the fire ahead, in a dirty sleeping bag with rocks digging into his back, all Buck can think about is Eddie, trying to distract himself with the word he can’t remember.

The one for this place, that doesn’t seem real, even with Eddie’s steady breath beside him.

He’s used to it, from the firehouse, isn’t so used to him sleeping with a little furrow between his eyes.

That went away about a year after Shannon. So he’s noticed. So what.

It’s not like he’s going to say anything. But in this between place, dirt caked under his fingernails, he does reach out, trying to smoothe it down. He doesn’t see why not, why he shouldn’t give him that little comfort.

To them both, if he’s honest.

Eddie’s eyes open, and some part of him knew they would.

“Buck” he says, like a whisper, like a prayer, eyes practically glowing. The eerie, smoke smeared light catches the tip of his tongue as he runs it over his cracked lips, like he’s trying to say something, can’t find the words.

And since there’s no rules when you’re not anywhere, Buck waits while tracing his face: the ridge of his brow, the rasp of new stubble, the line of his jaw.

Eddie’s eyes slip shut, not in sleep, and he breathes out in a way that’s too ragged.

Before Buck can ask, get scared that there’s a clot in his lung or worse, Eddie’s eyes slam open, the fire in them as wild as the one around them.

“I want you” he says and then he rolls onto Buck like a wave.

It is and isn’t unexpected but it is very much welcome, and why not, in a place that isn’t real.

It feels real, though, Buck moving to let Eddie settle over him, happy to take his weight, his burning tongue in Buck’s mouth, the scrape of dirty skin on dirty skin.

It’s sensory overload, the contradicting synapses that say danger is still too near or that Eddie is the danger or that they need this as badly as air, and Buck wants more, wants to drown in this before the fire comes.

It feels different even if Buck’s used to being wanted. But not loved.

He knows this is only a one-time unreal thing, and he can’t blame Eddie for it. It means his hands are greedy, eager, but Eddie doesn’t mind, trying to bite his tongue to hide the moan and losing, moving against Buck’s neck in a litany for lovers “Fuck-ye-please-oh- _Buck_ ”.

It’s rough and tumble messy; their too strong, calloused hands pawing at each other in a broken rhythm.

It’s over fast and Eddie collapses, breathing against him hard. Buck has to kiss him quiet.

Probably the only reason they didn’t get caught is the low rumble of the nearing fire and whirr of choppers and the exhausted sleep of the others.

Eddie pulls away, breathing like he’s holding back tears.

“That’s. That’s not the way I wanted it to go” he murmurs in a broken voice.

Inside of Buck, the bottom of something falls out and drops, unending. “Eds-” Buck tries and he sounds hollow and raspy, like his throat is wood being scraped clean by sandpaper.

Eddie shakes his head, and the rest of his body follows suit.

Buck doesn’t know what to do.

Does what he can.

Which is to put his hand back on Eddie’s face, their foreheads together, trying to get him to breathe.

“If. If you wanna file a report-” and that’s as far as Buck gets before he wants to bite through his own tongue, swallow the meat and choke on it and the free flowing blood. It was what the training video said to say.

“God Buck” Eddie says and he’s laughing, a hysterical jackal sort of cackle. “No. You have- you just have no idea- I-” and then he looks at Buck’s face through the filmy tears in his eyes and stops.

His hands grab Buck’s, careful and tender as he can make them. Buck’s seen him put in the effort before, with Chris.

“No, never, _do not think that_ ” he says and the hunk of tongue stuck in Buck’s throat finally slides, greasy, down. He can breathe.

“Fuck” Eddie mumbles, repeating the word under his breath, looking down. When he looks back up, he seems steeled, determined.

“I want to marry you” and it’s Buck’s turn to laugh, shocked into something close to hysterics.

“I know I’m bad at saying things, but. That’s what I mean Buck. I had all these plans, thought about how I wanted to tell you, and I can’t remember any of them. I love you, _I’m in love with you_ , and I want a life with you” he says, fiercely honest, bringing Buck’s hands up to his chest, looking down at them like he’s deciding whether to kiss them.

“Sorry to spring this on you” he adds, sounding unsure.

“Jesus, Eddie. Ask a guy on a date first” Buck says, but he’s smiling, even though the lingering tears on his eyelids.

“I will. When we get home” Eddie says, then his face twists, like he’s remembering that there’s a pandemic on. There isn’t one here, after all, under the burning sky.

“No, way too late for that. It’s moving-in together or nothing” Buck says.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, hopeful.

“Yeah” Buck says, and rests his head on his shoulder. He can feel sleep tugging him down and below that, the rational part of him that says it’s not going to be that easy.

It’s not like he cares, as long as it’s real. And Eddie, trembling lips kissing the top of his head as his breathing evens out, says it is.

Maybe the place where they are, sleeping on a dried-up creek bed fighting an inferno, isn’t so liminal after all. 

It’s the last thing he thinks, smiling, as he goes to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Peggy Lee's wonderful [_Fever_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b4hXyALR9vI), and details about fighting wild fires from [this](https://www.cracked.com/personal-experiences-1292-5-ways-wildfire-fighting-exactly-as-insane-as-it-sounds.html).


End file.
